


Spun Glass

by ifitwasribald



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Light Masochism, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifitwasribald/pseuds/ifitwasribald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is sick of lovers treating him like he was made of spun glass.  With Tony, that's not a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spun Glass

It had been a long time.

It wasn’t that Bruce has been celibate since the accident. It was just that his situation didn’t seem to lend itself to particularly satisfying encounters. He was actually reasonably confident in his ability to keep the other guy in check when he went to bed with someone, but he wasn’t sure enough that he’d even considered sleeping with someone who didn’t know what they were getting into. And that meant that it had been a very long while since Bruce had been intimate with anyone who wasn’t at least a little bit terrified of him.

And Bruce supposed that that was something that a lot of people would get off on, but he wasn’t one of them. He was sick of lovers who treated him like he was made of spun glass--or worse, really: spun glass that was the only thing between his lovers and a live grenade.

So, it had been a long time.

When Bruce first encountered Tony, he’d been taken aback at first by the man’s casual attitude towards Bruce’s situation. But it didn’t take long before surprise had been overtaken by vast relief at having someone to talk with who didn’t treat him like a living, breathing time bomb. And close on the heels of relief was a growing attraction. So when Tony began a game of what Bruce privately thought of as innuendo chicken, Bruce couldn’t muster the slightest inclination to back down. In fact, on an occasion or two, it was Bruce who upped the ante.

This was clearly not what Tony was expecting. But Bruce was pretty sure that he didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, surprising Tony Stark turned out to be almost as much fun as flirting with him in the first place.

And that was more or less how Bruce had ended kneeling in front of Tony in the middle of Tony’s lab. Bruce had been planning a take out order, and asked if there was anything that Tony wanted, and Tony had smirked and replied that he could “really go for a blow job,” and Bruce had taken a beat before walking back to him, very deliberately, and sinking to his knees.

Tony just stared for a moment, and then swallowed hard. Bruce could practically hear Tony’s brain trying to work out how serious Bruce was, and he could actually see a bulge in Tony’s pants which strongly suggested that he was hoping that Bruce was very serious indeed.

Bruce met Tony’s eyes in a challenging stare.

Tony recovered himself, and, not one to be outdone, casually unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock.

And then it was Bruce’s turn to pause, because as much as he wanted this, and oh he did, he hadn’t ever really been sure that it would happen. So now his lips were inches from the head of Tony’s erect cock and he almost couldn’t believe it. 

Almost, but not quite. 

Bruce leaned forward and around and pressed his lips to one side of Tony’s cock, enjoying the feel of the velvet-soft skin before opening his mouth to lick and suck and kiss.

Delicious noises fell from Tony’s throat. A hum of pleasure at the first contact, followed by a groan as Bruce opened his lips, and shortly a little whine as Tony began to grow impatient with Bruce’s teasing touches.

Bruce answered Tony’s whine with a satisfied hum, and moved to tease the head of Tony’s cock, lips curving in a little smirk as Tony’s obvious impatience grew. Bruce looked up at Tony with eyes that were daring, or maybe begging, Tony to do something about it.

Tony was a man of at least several virtues, but at that moment Bruce was very grateful that patience wasn’t one of them.

Tony reached down and threaded his fingers through Bruce’s hair and pulled him forward onto his cock. Bruce gave a little moan as he continued the motion, taking Tony most of the way into his mouth before slowly pulling back, his tongue swirling around the underside as he moved.

Tony sucked in a breath and let it out in a low murmur. “Oh, God, fuck...”

Bruce bobbed again on Tony’s cock, enjoying the feel of it filling his mouth, the sensation of Tony’s hand on the back of his head, savoring the slide of soft skin over the (Bruce couldn’t help but think) iron of his erection.

Tony grasped the work bench behind him with his free hand and let out another little whine. Bruce hummed appreciatively, which caused Tony to buck forward onto Bruce’s mouth and clench the hand still tangled in Bruce’s hair, forcing Bruce to take Tony’s cock to the root and pulling Bruce’s hair painfully at the skin.

Bruce let out a desperate moan and sucked enthusiastically, savoring the sensation of Tony’s cock filling his mouth, pressed into his throat. Bruce swallowed around Tony’s cock and pulled back a little, only to slide back up. 

Tony bucked again and Bruce’s cock jumped in answer. He was harder than he could ever remember being, and the slight friction of his boxers and pants against his cock seemed like almost enough to push him over the edge right there. Tony’s hand hadn’t unclenched, and Bruce felt like there was a direct line, a live wire, between the bite of pain at the nape of his neck and the heat pooling in his groin.

Bruce’s moans were nonstop now, and the effect on Tony was electric. The man was thrusting continuously, hand pulling Bruce’s mouth onto him with every stroke. “Fuck, oh, holy fuck, Bruce--” his thrusts became erratic, and his hand tightened in Bruce’s hair. Bruce only groaned louder and in a moment he could feel Tony pulsing in him. He continued to suck until Tony was spent and pulled away.

And then Bruce was just there, still on his knees, looking up at Tony. And Bruce was suddenly a little bit scared, because Tony had basically just revealed that he liked blow jobs, which, well, duh, while Bruce was pretty sure he had been all too clear on what he wanted, and a little bit too late it occurred to him that that had the potential to change everything, for better or for worse.

Also, Bruce was still incredibly, achingly hard.

Tony hooked a lab stool with one arm, and dragged it over and collapsed on it. After a moment it seemed to register with him that Bruce was still kneeling, and he reached down to grab Bruce’s shoulder and drag the other man up for a kiss.

And that was a little bit weird, though whether it was because this had only happened after Bruce had blown him or because it was while Bruce still had Tony’s come lingering in his mouth, he wasn’t sure. Once they’d broken apart, Bruce still wasn’t remotely sure what to say.

“So--fair play, I did make a request, and holy shit did you fulfill it, so--” Tony smirked, which, really, was his usual expression, but there was a spark in his eye that Bruce liked to imagine wasn’t always there, “--what do you want?”

Bruce took a deep breath. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ he thought to himself, and he liked to think that he wasn’t the sort of man who thought with his dick, but if there was ever a time to make an exception, that time was now. And so Bruce’s answer was very likely the most honest thing he’d ever said in his life. “I want-- I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me like I won’t break.” Bruce’s eyes met Tony’s. “I want you to leave bruises, and I want you to like it.”

And maybe Bruce was imagining it, but Tony seemed to moan a little bit just at Bruce’s words, and Bruce definitely wasn’t imagining that Tony’s hand had reached around to Bruce’s ass and was grabbing it with more force than Bruce would necessarily have imagined Tony would be capable of.

They kissed again, and deeper, Tony’s lips hard against Bruce’s, his tongue surging into Bruce’s mouth aggressively, strong fingers digging into the cheeks of Bruce’s ass.

And this time, when they broke apart, Tony had moved off the stool and had his hands on Bruce’s arms, spinning him around and shoving him down onto a lab table. One of Tony’s hands was firmly positioned on Bruce’s back, holding him down, and once again Bruce realized that he had never paid enough attention to what Tony was capable even without the Iron Man suit. Tony’s other hand reached around, deftly undoing all the fastenings of Bruce’s pants, and pulling them down to his knees along with his boxers.

Bruce had spent more time than he would ever admit thinking about what it would be like to be fucked by Tony Stark, and certainly one of Tony’s prime attractions (in addition to the fact that he was impossibly gorgeous and a genius besides) was that the man wasn’t the type to be too careful. But this--this was more than Bruce had expected. His cock jumped and he let out a little groan of anticipation.

Bruce realized that Tony had muttered some form of instruction, to JARVIS or maybe to some other interface in the lab, but Bruce was too focused on the cold lab table that he was pressed against, and Tony’s warm hand pressing him there, to have any clear idea of what Tony had asked for. Still, Bruce wasn’t an idiot, so he wasn’t exactly shocked when one of Tony’s fingers was very well lubed when it pressed against Bruce’s hole.

“Just--oh God, Tony, please just fuck me.”

“Why, Dr. Banner, if you recall, you just blew my brains out. Just how young do you think I am?” Tony asked. “Besides, Bruce,” he added, in a more intimate tone, “this is more fun if I do it my way.” On the last two words, Tony added a second finger, and pressed in just far enough to reach Bruce’s prostate and make him buck--ineffectually, as his cock was standing at attention in the empty air below the lab table. 

“Please, Tony, ohshit, please. Just--fuck--please, fuck me.” Bruce didn’t care that he was begging--couldn’t care: he was too focused on the sensation of Tony’s fingers in his ass and his hand pressing down on his back. And why shouldn’t he be? It had been far too long since he’d felt even a fraction of this.

“Holy Mother of I-Don’t-Even-Know, Bruce,” Tony cursed reverently, “do you have any idea how hot you are begging like that?” Tony’s fingers withdrew, and Bruce whined for a moment, before Tony’s fingers were replaced by what had to be the head of Tony’s cock, pushing against, but not quite entering, Bruce’s ass. Bruce felt Tony grab his hips with both hands, and grip hard--hard enough that Bruce knew he’d be wearing ten individual bruises in the morning--and Bruce very nearly came right then.

Bruce tried to rock backwards onto Tony’s cock, but Tony just held him there, firmly, like Tony had every confidence in the world that his grip could keep Bruce exactly in place, and Bruce couldn’t help but moan his pleasure.

Slowly--so slowly; too slowly--Tony pressed into Bruce, fully in control of the motion no matter how much Bruce tried to press backwards. “Tony!” he tried, and then: “Stark! Fuck me, oh God fuck me please.”

And maybe he’d said the magic word, or maybe Tony had just gotten bored with teasing, but either way Tony was using his grip on Bruce’s hips to plough deep inside him, glancing off Bruce’s prostate and sending sparks up to his brain and back down with every stroke. 

Bruce was so close, but not quite there, and he whimpered in disappointment as one hand left his hip, only to moan a moment later as it closed around his erection. Some part of Bruce’s mind supplied the information that Tony had surely applied an ample coating of lube to his hand, because Bruce’s cock glided in and out of Tony’s very tight grip with ease. But most of Bruce’s mind was busy shouting “please,” “fuck,” “ohgod,” and “Tony,” over and over again, and not necessarily in that order.

Tony’s other hand remained on Bruce’s hip, and continued to pull him hard onto Tony’s cock with every stroke. Tony’s breathing was ragged, and he moaned or cursed nearly constantly. Bruce struggled to push himself further onto Tony’s cock, and further into Tony’s hand, bucking back and forth, shamelessly fucking himself against Tony in both directions.

Tony thrust one final time against Bruce, hips pressed against Bruce’s ass, pinning him to the table, as if Tony’s hand on his hip wasn’t enough to keep him there. Tony’s other hand squeezed, and Bruce’s vision nearly dissolved as he pulsed out what felt like everything he had, coming on the underside of the lab bench and all over the lab’s floor and not caring even a little bit. He could feel that Tony was coming too, a second time in his case, and deep into Bruce’s ass. Bruce tried not to kid himself that this meant anything more than what it did, but the thought of Tony Stark’s come gradually seeping out of his ass was hotter than he would have liked to admit.

After a moment that was forever and all too short, Tony pulled out and reached with both hands to pull Bruce upright. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure what he would encounter when he turned back to face Tony, but what he found wasn’t anything he had been expecting.

Exhaustion would have made sense, or cat-caught-the-canary pride at making Bruce react like that, or embarrassment over a situation that Bruce had certainly provoked--all of those were reactions that Bruce might have predicted, at least if he had more than couple of brain cells to rub together at the moment. But what Bruce would certainly never have expected in the features of Tony Stark was awe, let alone an awe cut with gratitude.

Bruce still felt as if he were floating in a haze--his primary consciousness was of a throbbing ache in his hips and milder aches of his ass and along his cock. But he responded gladly to Tony’s kiss, giving a slight noise of approval when Tony’s hand squeezed over one of the bruises that he’d left earlier.

When they parted again, Bruce felt, to his embarrassment, nearly bereft. And Bruce had his dignity--usually, as long as nothing had upset the other guy--but for the moment he just didn’t care. “Tell me--” he began, “tell me we’re going to do that again,” he said.

Tony grabbed the swell of Bruce’s ass with two hands and pulled the man to him in his remarkable grip. “You better believe it.”


End file.
